


The Case of the Misplaced Child

by WhatLocked



Series: The William Watson Case Files [3]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Lost Child, M/M, Panicky Sherlock, Puppies & Axolotl's, Sherlock & Johns POV, Sweary Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-12 06:25:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10484262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatLocked/pseuds/WhatLocked
Summary: A trip to the shops doesn’t go quite as planned.(Set in the last chapter of The Case of The Doctor & The Detective - it is mentioned, but you don't need to have read the other in order for this to make sense.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, we are back again, with a quick little insight into the lives of our favourite boys. Just a one chapter this time, and to be honest, most of this series will probably only be one chapters from here on in. Anyways. hope you enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~

“ _Peas, bread, orange juice, shaving cream.  Peas, bread, orange juice, shaving cream.  Peas, bread…_ ”  John felt the need to mutter the first four items on the shopping list over and over again.  It helped as a sort of mantra that not only blocked the whining of the two children he had with him, but it also instilled in him a sense of calm that stopped him from throttling them both.  Murder would not be good.  It would mean a lot of paper work, but then again he would be put in a nice quiet cell with no one to bother him.  

John had had his afternoon planned.  Leave Sherlock and William at home to do something that he may or may not have to clean up at a later time and do the grocery shopping that should have been done two days ago (but had been put off for a case) and then maybe get a hair cut.  It was growing a bit too long for Johns liking, especially since it seemed to have given Sherlock permissions to tug on it in his sleep, something that was not overly conducive to John getting a good nights sleep of his own.

What had happened instead of his carefully thought out planning was William asking if they could go to the library straight after breakfast, which Sherlock had insisted on coming along, which then turned into an hour at the London Transport Museum so Sherlock could determine whether or not a man back in 1963 could have been pulled under a GS64 Bus and been dragged along, as the police reports stated had been the cause of his death.  The answer had been clear even to John.  No he couldn’t have.  This then led the boys to a slightly later than originally planned lunch at a small burger joint near Trafalgar Square which then, not at all to Johns amusement, found Sherlock conversing with several rough looking kids carting around duffle bags full of spray paint cans.  William was utterly fascinated with Raz and John had to point out, several times, that no, it was most certainly not okay to go around spray painting the walls of London public, not unless he planned on having ASBO’s in his future.

Finally John managed to drag Sherlock away from  the back ally ways and told him that he was heading to the shops and he would meet him and William back at Baker Street once he was done getting the groceries.

If John had thought his day had been thrown into disarray before then he had been mistaken for what happened next was not only unexpected but John also knew was going to lead to heartbreak.

“Nonsense.  We will come with you, John” had been Sherlocks reply and despite John trying to persuade Sherlock otherwise (William, the traitor had piped up with a sudden desire to also go grocery shopping) Sherlock had insisted that it was no bother at all, so with that being finalised the three of them piled into a cab and sped off towards the shopping centre where John knew he could get his shopping done and get his hair trimmed.  Who knew?  Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

~o~

This was the worst idea in the history of terrible ideas.  William had wanted everything he set his eyes on.  Sherlock questioned everything John put in the trolly, and also loudly deduced the other customers by what was in their trolley .  Both Sherlock and William complained endlessly that they were bored and wanted to know when they could leave.  John had finally had enough when Sherlock, having the concentration span of a three year old, caused a stack of tinned kidney beans to spill all over the aisle by trying to use them to build an inverted pyramid.  The spill then resulted in a young man tripping up and pulling over a display of tomato sauce which left a mess as three of the bottles burst when they hit the floor.  With his last threads of patience John asked, through clenched teeth, for the two children who had accompanied him to the shops to go and meet him in the food court.  They could buy ice cream while they waited.  Both eagerly agreed and John continued his shopping after apologising profusely to the manager and promising that he would never bring Sherlock into her store again.  It was only after John had offered to pay for the three bottles of tomato sauce and she had actually witnessed Sherlock leaving the store that she allowed John to continue what he had started.  With a deep sigh and a firm resolve to never take both William and Sherlock shopping together again, John pushed his trolley in the direction of the dairy section, trying desperately hard not to think about what the other two were getting up to.

~o~

Sherlock knew the shopping trip would be a good idea eventually.  Even if it was for something as simple as ice cream.  Ice cream - the best result to (indirectly) come from a cows udder.  The best part of the cow really.  Okay, maybe they made rather nice shoes as well, but that was besides the point, and no one actually liked to think that they were walking around with dead cow skin wrapped around their feet.  It made for uncomfortable conversation apparently.  Either way, the shopping itself had been as tedious as expected and the manager (and other shoppers) had overreacted greatly as far as Sherlock was concerned, but that was okay, because in the food court there was a Frosty-Cream Ice Cream shop and they sold Macadamia and Honey Ice Cream, quite possibly the best thing to ever be mixed with the contents of a cows udder produce.

As they walked to the food court William held his hand tightly, hopping over the dark blue tiles.  Apparently those ones were acid. Sherlock had had to carry him over a corner section as his little legs could jump over three in a row and apparently adults were immune to this particular brand of acid, but that was fine.  Anything to keep everyone happy.  

Sherlock was trying to think of a way to convince the people at the ice cream shop to give him at least a litre of the Macadamia and Honey ice cream (they had refused at all the other stores)  when he decided to tune into Williams musing once more.  He did this every now and then so he could answer accordingly and make it sound like he was listening.  John was never fooled, but kept talking anyway, Mrs Hudson was convinced he held onto her every word when he did this and he was pretty sure William just wanted to talk.   Mycroft, he blatantly ignored.  

“…it opened jutht latht week, but dad thaid no becauthe I would athk for thomething and he would then have to thay no, but I jutht want to go have a look.  Maybe they have a tamarin.”

“Maybe” Sherlock answered, not really knowing what William was talking about, just agreeing.  

William clenched Sherlocks hand as he readied himself to jump over the next dark blue tile.  “Can we go?” William asked as he landed heavily on his two feet, safely on the white tiles.

“Probably” Sherlock answered distractedly as they turned into the food court and he instantly set himself to locating the Frosty Cream.  

There it was.  Tall pale blue and purple wall panels with a spinning ice cream cone indicating that that was where you could purchase dairy goodness.  Gently he tugged on William hand and they headed towards the store, which thankfully, only had a hand full of people lined up.  

“Banana, pleathe” William sang as they made it to the front counter and Sherlock placed their orders.  He frowned when the young woman informed him that no, she couldn’t sell the ice cream by the litre and yes, she was certain.  It was company policy.  

Sherlock almost deduced that her secret smoking habit and tendency to take the bank notes out of the charity box on the front counter were as clear as day but then decided that if he did that then he most likely wouldn’t get any ice cream at all, so he kept his mouth shut.  

While they waited for their order to be filled, Sherlock lifted William up and sat him on the table, closest to the counter.  

“Tho, can we go?” he asked and Sherlock didn’t get a chance to ask what he was on about as his name was called, but wherever it was, they could more than likely go as they ate their ice cream.  William was going to make a mess regardless of whether they sat down or walked around.  “Sure” he called and turned to get their ice cream.

When Sherlock turned from the counter, two ice creams in hand, it was to see a rather large man and woman both wearing matching yellow and orange shirts so bright they could be termed offensive, glaring at Sherlock as he was obviously blocking their only access to the supply of ice cream.  What he didn’t see was William.

“Oh, fuck.”

~o~

John was almost finished.  He just had to load the last bag in the trolley, pay the cashier and then go and get his hair trimmed, then he could gather Thing 1 & Thing 2 and go home with the knowledge that he now knew never to bring them shopping ever, ever EVER again, no matter how much they pleaded or reasoned.

It was just as he let go of the bag’s plastic handle as it settled firmly in the trolley when his phone rang.  The groan was silent as he dreaded to think what had happened now, but when he pulled his phone out of his pocket he was pleased to see that it wasn’t Sherlock (or Mycroft or Greg on Sherlock’s behalf) but was an unknown number instead.  He answered the phone and held it to his ear as he fumbled in his pocket, one handedly for his wallet.

“Hello” he answered.

“Is this Doctor Watson?”  the voice on the other end of the line queried and instantly Johns easy demeanour fled, a sense of urgency taking place.  Not too many people asked for _Doctor_ Watson.  Mr Watson, or more likely, John, but very rarely _Doctor_ and 99% of the time, only when there was an emergency.

“This is him.  Is something wrong?” John asked his hand suspended next to his hip, wallet clutched tightly.

The soft, short chuckle coming from the speaker sent a confusing mixture of relief and then concern trickling up and down his spine.

“No, no.  Nothing at all.  My name is Craig Newman, I am the manager on roster today at Pet-Topia.”  John tried wracking his brains as to why the manager at a pet store of all places would be calling him.  They had never shopped there as they didn’t have a pet.  In fact, he had never stepped foot inside the store, despite Williams pleadings.  “It appears we have you son, William here.  He gave us your number after we realised he had been in the shop for fifteen minutes and none of the adults in store were actually with him.”

The dread that John had been feeling at being addressed as Doctor suddenly flipped to frustration.  “I don’t suppose there is a tall lanky idiot lurking anywhere nearby?”

The voice at the other end of the line sounded amused when it answered.  “Just William, Doctor Watson.  I assure you, he is not at all distressed, but if you -or the tall lanky idiot - would like to come and collect him…”

“Sure not a problem.  We’ll be there shortly, and I do apologise for this.”

“Not at all Doctor Watson.  He hasn’t been a bother.  We’ll keep him here until you arrive.”

“Thank you” John replied and hung up and set about calling Sherlock to find out what the hell was happening.  Half an hour.  That was all he had wanted.  Half an hour and why in the hell had Sherlock not rang him to tell him that William had been missing…

Suddenly, John stopped with his finger hovering over Sherlocks name on the screen of his phone and chuckled.

“Sir?” the cashier asked but John ignored her.  Sherlock was trying to figure out where William had got to.  He was hoping to find him before John had finished and the two of them would conspire not to let John know.  John put his phone in his pocket and then continued to pay for the groceries, noticing that during his phone call the line behind him had grown to include six people.  “Sorry” he uttered in his most genuine _I-will-pretend-I-give-a-fuck-but-I-really-don’t_ voice and quickly made his way out of Tesco’s before pulling his phone out again.

“John” came Sherlocks voice after the phone had almost rung out and John suppressed the smirk.  Sherlock was most definitely trying to hide something.  His voice was higher than normal and forcibly nonchalant.  “Finished already?”

“Yep.  Where are you at?  I’ll come collect you both.”

There was silence.  

“Sherlock?”

“I thought you were getting your hair cut?"  
“Nah, there was a wait.  I’ve got frozen goods I need to get home.”

“Oh, that’s disappointing I suppose.”

John tried not to chuckle and only just succeeded.

“Still at the food court?”

“Umm, yes.”  The word came out like a question but John decided no to press it any further.  

“Great, I’ll meet you there in five minutes.”

“No, I’ll…” but Sherlocks protestations were cut off by John hanging up.  John chuckled and pushed the trolley towards the food court.  He shouldn’t take so much pleasure in this but there was a part of him that was more than just a little bit sadistic and every now and then that part of him needed entertaining.  Apparently today was that day.

~o~

Sherlock had practically run the entire way from the toy shop, back to the food court after hanging up with John.  John, who was going to be angry when he got there and there was no William.  John, who had trusted Sherlock to look after his son for thirty-three minutes and would now be disappointed that Sherlock couldn’t even handle that.  John, who was heading straight towards him, whistling and looking too damned cheery.  

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!_

“Hey” John said blithely, sidling up next to him and reaching up to place a kiss on his cheek.  Shamelessly, Sherlock pressed his cheek into the kiss, as if he deserved it.   “Where’s William?”

Sherlock looked around, as if the child would have magically appeared while he wasn’t looking.  _Crap.  He hadn’t!_ That thought alone said a lot about the state of Sherlocks mind, that he had secretly hoped that William would have magically appeared in a puff of smoke.  “Umm” Sherlock hummed out, his hand running through his hair as he frantically thought of a way not to make himself sound at fault.  Well, as much as at fault.  “It’s complicated.”

“Complicated?” John asked thoughtfully.

“Yes, you see.  He was here, and we got ice cream, just as you suggested.”  Sherlock watched Johns eyes and realised he was tracking the movements of his hands which were apparently running through his hair again.  Quickly, he snatched them down and held them steady at his sides.  “And then there was this couple in rather gaudy shirts and …”

“Gaudy shirts?” John repeated, eyebrow cocked and still far too calm for Sherlocks liking. 

“Yes gaudy.  Bright colours, blinding, not safe for wear in the public.  It was like looking into the sun…”

“Sherlock, you’re off track.”

“Right” Sherlock said as he calmed down some, not realising he was rambling until John had called him out on it.  “As I was saying.  Ice cream and then, well, William seemed to be not near me anymore…”

 “You lost William.”

John saying those words, in that calm voice seemed to send Sherlock into a bit more of a panic and also made him sound like an idiot - two ways to send Sherlocks defences up, which is why he practically hissed out “I didn’t lose him John, I have just somehow managed to … misplace him.”

John just cocked and eyebrow, arms crossed loosely across his chest.  “You lost William” he reiterated.

“No.  I put him somewhere, on a table and turned around, for five bloody seconds.  If anyone lost anyone, he lost himself.”

John did that thing where he twisted the left half of his lips down and squinted his eyes as if he were trying to grasp something.“Nope” he said slowly.  “I’m pretty sure he knows exactly where he is.”

“Well, it’s not where he is supposed to be” Sherlock spat.  It was true.  William never wandered off.  What in the hell had he been thinking.  It was then that a thought suddenly hit Sherlock.  William hadn’t wandered off.  He never went anywhere on his own (except for that one time he left the library in order to make a trek to Baker Street) he always had someone he knew with him.  That could only mean one thing.  Oh god.  William had been snatched!  With Sherlock right next to him and he had let it happen.  Sherlock fumbled in his pocket for his phone, all intents on calling Mycroft and getting every resource available in order to track down the sick bastard who had taken William when a hand on his wrist steadied his movements.  It was John’s hand.

Sherlock looked up to see John, a small smile on his face.  John wasn’t angry.  John was smiling.  Why was John smiling?

“Why are you so calm?  You are never this calm about William.  What do you know?”

“He’s at the pet shop” John answered simply.  “The manager of the store thought it odd that he was on his own and asked him where his parents were.  He gave them my number and they called me.  Something you probably should have done when you realised he was gone.”

Relief flooded through Sherlock so quickly that he felt his knees start to weaken.  Johns hand, still on his wrist, tightened its grip and this somehow steadied Sherlock.  “I didn’t want to worry you, I was certain he couldn’t have gotten very far.”

An incredulous look came over Johns face.  “You have met my son, yeah?  The pet shop is on the other bloody side of the shopping centre.  How long has he been gone?” he asked and let go of Sherlocks wrist to grab the trolley, turning it around so he could start walking in the direction of the pet shop.  

Sherlock quickly followed, looking at his watch.   “I noticed him gone 26 minutes ago.”

A tiny shake moved Johns head from side to side and a fond smile graced his lips, small that it was.  “You do realise you could have gone to centre management and they would have put a notification over the PA, yeah?  Let the security guards know, given them a description.  They do things like that with lost kids.”

“He wasn’t _lost_ ”  Sherlock gainsaid, somewhat petulantly.

“They do it with _misplaced_ kids too” John smiled and continued to lead the way to the pet shop.

~o~

Pet-Topia was what the name said.  It was huge and clean and gleaming, and bright, well lit colours in tropical hues danced out at you as you approached it.  Chirpy music was issuing from the speakers and all the animals that John could see without entering the store, genuinely looked pleased to be there.  It really was a pet paradise.  It was so cheerful it was on the point of nauseating and this was coming from John, the optimistic one in the household.  

John looked over at Sherlock, who had calmed down almost completely on the small trek from the foodcourt to the pet shop and had even gotten out of the sulk he had been in at being played by John, but now there was a look of something akin to disgust, tinted with the tiniest bit of fear as he observed the store they were about to enter.  John just chuckled and took the first brave steps through the door.

As they passed sensors, animal noises greeted them with barks or tweets.  As Sherlock entered, he visibly flinched as an elephant trumpeted through the speakers.  

“Clearly false advertising” he grumbled and stalked past John.  John chuckled again.  

“Can I help you?” came a happy, almost cheerful voice from behind John and he turned to find a tall, chubby, blonde with a smile too large for his face and a name tag that read ‘ _Craig_ ’.

“Ah, yes, Doctor Watson” John greeted, stepping forward and holding out his hand.  “I believe you have my son.”

“Doctor Watson.  What a pleasure, and of course, just this way” Craig directed and led John past a maze of shelves and enclosures to a small glass box housing four very fluffy puppies.  On the furthest side of the box, leaning over to the point where he was practically falling in, was his son, running his hand through the fur of one very enthusiastic and excited puppy.

“Thank you” John said to Craig and the store manager offered another smile and left, with a polite nod of his head.  

John made his way around to the other side of the tank and pulled on the back of Williams shirt until the boy was upright again.

“Daddy” he cried out happily.  John smiled down at him.  “Look at the puppieth.  They are tho cute” he practically squealed and the dog he had been patting sat down and wagged its tail across the floor, its tongue hanging out of it’s mouth looking far too hopeful.

At Williams shrill cries, Sherlock appeared from behind a shelf and joined them.

“William” John said, placing his hand on his sons head to stop him from leaning back into the puppy enclosure and gently rubbing his fingers into the boys scalp to keep his attention.  “You can’t just go wandering off like that.  We have discussed this before, remember?”

William looked from the puppies and up to John, confusion on his face and then he looked to Sherlock.  “But, Therlock wath with me” he stated.

“Sherlock didn’t know where you were” John said to William.  “He was really worried.”

At this Williams look of confusion turned into a frown.  “I athked him if we could go to the pet thtore and he thaid yeth.” The hard tone to Williams voice told John that the boy was getting angry.  

“ I said no such thing” Sherlock interjected before John could calm William down.  The pet shop was really no place for a tantrum.  

“I thaid” William started, but Sherlock spoke over him, a classic tell that he had been worried as was just refusing to admit it.

“I sat you on the table and went to get the ice creams and then you were gone.  How is that me telling you that you could go to the pet shop?”

“Becauthe I asked if we could go and you thaid ‘ _thure'_ so we went to the pet thop.  I told you about how Brian’th dad got him a budgie and how it ith green and yellow, don’t you remember?”

Sherlock shook his head.  “It wath after you got the ithe cream and we came here, and I told you that they might have a python - Jane hath one of them - and then we got here and I found the kittenth and you went to the aktholotl.”

Silence fell between the three of them, Sherlock looking far too interested towards the fish tanks and William looking back down at the puppy, as John pieced together what had happened and then he sighed.  The puppy whined along with his own resignation.  William had apparently picked up on Sherlocks habit of talking to someone, even when they weren’t there.  At this rate John was never going to know what was going on in their lives because they’d all be having conversations without him.  

“When I came back from getting the ice creams, you were gone” Sherlock stated and it appeared that petulant was back again.  

William didn’t seem to pick up on this, nor the fact that he had been gone for half an hour.  Instead, he asked “Where is my ithe cream?”

“I gave them to the man with the horrid top” Sherlock answered, still sulking.  “His wife got mine!” 

John wanted to laugh as he looked at the two of them.  Both of them were rather put out at what sounded like a couple of tourists getting their ice creams.  Jesus fucking christ.  What a day.  

“Come on you two” John muttered.  “Lets go get ice cream and then we’ll go home.  It’s been a long day.”

This seemed to cheer the two of them up.  

“Can we get a puppy, daddy, pleeeeeeathe!” William begged and John pushed his trolley forward, wanting to get out of the shop as quickly as possible.  Between both Sherlock and William, Johns resolve had been broken down before.  He wasn’t going to let it happen now.

“The drawing out of the word please is not going to change the fact that you are not getting a pet, especially not a bloody husky. The answer is still no, buddy.”

William grabbed his hand, stopping him in his tracks and John looked down to a pitiful pout and wide pleading eyes  “Facial expressions ain’t gonna do it either” he stated and looking up to Sherlock said “It won’t work with you either Sherlock so drop it, you’re not getting an axolotl” and together the three of them left Pet-Topia, John glad the day was almost at an end and Sherlock and William following behind, silently communicating to each other that it was okay, John would cave eventually.  


End file.
